


Come Out and Play

by Nutkin



Category: Glee
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:11:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nutkin/pseuds/Nutkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Tina find ways to alleviate fifth period boredom, including sexting, flattery, and secret meet-ups in the bathroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Out and Play

**Author's Note:**

> I love Sam and I love Tina, so it was only natural to want Sam/Tina. Specifically Sam/Tina porn. Thanks to CJ for looking this over and being encouraging.

God bless teachers with messy home lives. That's all Tina can think these days when she's stuck in fifth period AP English with Mrs. Hanover. 

It's not like she means to exploit the poor lady, or anything. She actually feels sorry for her – at the beginning of the year she was enjoying that third trimester glow, even though she was on kid three or four, but after their stint with a sub ended and she returned to teaching them the nuances of _The Canterbury Tales_ , she seemed… tired. 

Which was understandable, but then Mr. Schue – presumably as part of his quest to completely break down all barriers of propriety between students and teachers – had let it slip that they should all be nice to Mrs. Hanover because she was going through a bad divorce. 

So it's a regular Lifetime movie situation, apparently. And Tina can tell she's doing her best to keep her senior class under control and on the path to graduation, but most of the time she just seems pretty checked out. Which means it's easy to spend the class period daydreaming, or doodling down song ideas, or texting with a boy.

She's usually texting with a boy.

It's happy coincidence that Sam's fifth period is spent in the back row of Civics, a class he's managing to pull a B in thanks to Ms. Castle's thriving pill addiction. Not that Sam doesn't try – he does, and Tina's proud of him for it, but. Well. Sometimes they get bored.

She's idly tracing and retracing the title of her paper outline when her phone gives a discreet hum where it's resting next to her pencil case. A quick glance around confirms that literally no one is paying attention, but she still slides it down into her lap to read the message.

_U look awesome today._

_You told me that at lunch, you know._

_it's true!! that dress is… WOW!!_

Tina smiles, shifting a little in her seat. _How wow?_

_uh… very?? I cant concentrate im thinking of it too much_

_You never concentrate in Civics._

_i do sometimes,_ comes the next message. Then, after a pause, _the days u wear pants_

Tina rolls her eyes. _I've worn pants once in the last 6 months._

_my point!!!!_

_You're one to talk. If your hoodies get any smaller they'll cut off circulation to your extremities._

_Oh so u been checking me out huh?? ;) enjoyin the view?_

_Along with every other girl and gay at school, any of whom could draw an accurate rendering of your abs, chest and back by now._

_lol u sound jealous?? theyre just shirts_

_You sound horny! They're just dresses._

_very horny._

_How bad is it?_

_bad. Im like a 3rd of the way there. its getting crowded under my desk haha._

Tina bites her lip and crosses her legs, trying to not picture it. To no avail. 

There's a heady feeling that comes from knowing she can do that to him – that right now, on the other side of school, Sam Evans is hunkering down in his seat, slouching in his teeny-tiny hoodie and straight-legged jeans with that big, thick, outrageously hot cock slowly stiffening up because he can't stop thinking about her.

It's not like she wasn't attracted to Mike – heck, she's still attracted to Mike – but something about Sam is just different. Sam can be insanely, incredibly sweet, and he can be a total goofball, and sometimes she spends entire afternoons watching him and Blaine play video games and do dumb impressions and wonders how either of them have ever gotten laid in their lives. 

But Sam has an it-factor that's undeniable, too. He knows how hot he is. Everyone knows how hot he is. Going places with Blaine on her arm is fun because people look at him and seem impressed – it's the way he dresses and his impeccable manners and old Hollywood good looks. Going places with Sam on her arm is fun because people look at him with open awe and jealousy.

And while Tina doesn't doubt her own it-factor, being the girl who gets Sam that worked up feels... good. It feels _really_ good. There may have been a time when that would have struck her as shallow, but after the last several months, that notion doesn't seem so upsetting. It hasn't felt this good to be Tina Cohen-Chang in a long, long time.

A little smile curls at the corner of her mouth. She glances up at the front of the room, where Mrs. Hanover is obliviously sorting through a stack of papers, and then turns her attention back to her phone. It's already in her lap, so she only has to tilt it a little to snap a picture; at that angle, her phone captures the curvy press of her thighs all the way down to her knees, with a glimpse of white knee socks and the patent leather shine of her flats thrown in for good measure.

The response is immediate, though it comes through in chunks: 

_FUCKK_

_not cool!! are you trying to kill me??_

_TINA!!!!_

She wets her lips, squeezing her thighs together almost absently as she types, _Now show me yours._

It'd probably serve her right if he didn't respond at all. She is aware that it's a little, um, harder for him to be casual if he suddenly gets called on, or something.

She's on the verge of tapping out an apology when his response comes through – a little on the blurry side, but clear enough to make out. It's the exact same angle. The hem of Sam's green hoodie, the underside of a standard McKinley classroom table, and the unmistakable bulge of dick right there in the not-so-generous curve of zipper in his unforgiving black jeans.

Maybe it's just because it's been a few days since they had alone time, or maybe it's the whole illicit classroom angle, but a full-body flush of heat sears through her as she stares down at her screen. God, she knows exactly what she would do with that if she had him right there. This was totally playing with fire, and has pretty much blown up in her face, because now she just wants it – and can't have it. Not any time soon.

_Wow, I'm such an idiot. I can't believe I just dick-teased myself._

_urself???_

_I was trying to mess with you, but now I won't be able to concentrate either. All I can think about is how big it gets._

Her cheeks burn just typing that out, and for a moment after hitting "send" she has to stare intently at her textbook, praying no one noticed how flustered she's just become.

_gets xtra big for you. cuz i love you so much. always want 2 get it deep._

It's stupid and cheesy, but she knows it's true, in a way. She knows how much he likes to get it up in there and just grind her on it, stretching her open and filling her up.

_Fuck. I have to go to the ladies room and freshen up now. You win._

Her phone buzzes again before she can even get up: _where_ , and then _ill meet u_.

_Second floor. By the stairs._

_c u in three._

 

*

 

Even though she just got done sending him dirty texts in the middle of the school day, seeing Sam round the corner from the swinging bathroom door hits her with a rush of giddy, nervous adrenaline. 

"Hey," she says, face feeling warm again. 

Sam's mouth quirks up in an amused little smirk. "Hey," he returns, dropping his backpack. "Come here."

He's the one who ambles over to her, though, crowding her back against the sink and leaning in for a kiss. Her arms loop up around his neck automatically, weight shifting to her toes so she can lean in and sweep her tongue right past his lips; she's only distantly aware of his hands settling at her waist, which makes it even more of a surprise when he lifts her up and effortlessly plunks her down on the cool porcelain edge of the sink.

"Thanks for letting me come help," he says, that smile still playing around the edges of his mouth. His hands feel big and warm on her hips, making her legs spread instinctively so he can step in closer.

"Any excuse to blow off Civics class, right?" she says breathlessly.

"Mm. Or maybe I just really want to go down on you," he says, voice low and conspiratorial. His eyes are so large and round, they're pretty much always bordering on a puppy dog expression – and when his eyebrows perk like that, it looks for all the world like nothing would make him happier. That might actually be true; if past experience has taught her anything, he really does seem to love doing that.

Tina can't quite hide her smirk as she fiddles with the strings hanging from his sweatshirt. "Hmm," she says thoughtfully, swinging her legs so the toe of her flats kicks lightly at Sam's backpack. "I guess I'll allow it."

Sam grins, the hand at her waist sliding down to palm purposefully at her bare knee.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he murmurs, fingertips working in a circular motion as they ease up her thigh, nudging under the hem of her dress. It's pure instinct to slide her legs a little further apart, breaths hitching and heat blooming under her skin – cheeks, legs, arms, a full-body blush that seems to throb through her all at once.

They've done this enough times that there's a certain amount of sense-memory involved, and she's already getting wet by the time those guitar callused fingers have made it halfway up her thigh.

"Oh, God," she breathes, letting her head drop back against the wall and huffing up at the ceiling. "This is probably not the best place for this – anyone could just come in–"

"That's sorta the point." Sam leans in, nuzzling right under her jaw and sending goosebumps down her arms. "You like showing off, remember? Knowing anyone could come through that door... Kitty or Marley or even Coach Sue..."

Tina can feel her face getting hot, but it's totally true. There's a weird part of her that loves the rush. Maybe it's the whole diva thing – wanting to be in the spotlight, wanting other people to be jealous. But if someone walked in and saw Sam Evans on his knees on the floor of the girls' bathroom, eating out Tina Cohen-Chang with those luscious trouty lips in front of God and everyone – well. She wouldn't hate it.

"Fair enough," she says, squeezing his shoulders and feeling Sam smile against the side of her throat.

"What panties are you wearing today?" he hums, voice dipping even lower as his fingers creep up. "The green ones with the polka dots?"

"Mm, red and white checkered."

Sam groans faintly, a rumbly noise she can feel vibrating in his chest as he sways against her. She can't help but smile, huffing out a little laugh; most boys are into the fancy Victoria's Secret stuff (and she's got a couple of those, too), but Sam's a sucker for her most demure, girly underthings. The more wholesome and sweet-looking, the better. 

As fetishes go, it's pretty darn cute.

"Wanna see?" she says knowingly, turning to smooch at his cheek.

"I wanna do more than that." His tone is teasing, but when he tips his face to kiss her it's surprisingly sweet. His lips are full and soft, coaxing hers apart easily as his fingers finally slide all the way up to the flirty strip of lace around the leg of her panties.

Tina's grip goes tight on his shoulders, senses narrowing to the warm, solid weight of Sam's body pressed up against hers, pussy throbbing with heat as he rubs her slit through the thin cotton.

"Oh," she huffs, lips mumbly against Sam's. She can feel him smile as he tips his forehead to rest against hers, fingertips zeroing right in on her clit.

"They're sexy," he whispers, his tone fond. It's almost too fond, too sweet and gentle for the dirty grind of his fingers working that damp cotton right up against her – but that's Sam. He always seems to walk that line. He revs her up and soothes her, heats her up and cools her down. He'll bounce her on his cock till every nerve in her body feels raw and she's barely able to muffle her moans against his shoulder, but he'll rub her back gently the whole time. 

"You haven't – even seen them yet," she manages, breaths already unsteady.

"I don't need to. You got them so wet… God, do you know how hot that is?"

His fingers are already getting rhythmic and coaxing, but she sucks in another shaky breath, fingernails digging into the fabric of his hoodie.

"Well," she says, sliding one hand down his side. "I have some idea."

His laugh cuts off with a gasp when she palms over the thick bulge of his cock through his jeans. It's tucked to the side, flipped up so the fat head of it is resting right under his waistband. That's where her fingers automatically drift, squeezing and shaping the denim around it with the same merciless rhythm Sam's giving her.

"Fuck," he blurts out, breath barely hitting his vocal chords enough to make it audible. His hips give a little jerk that seems involuntary, nudging his dick into the curve of her fingers.

"That's pretty sexy, too," she says, a smile tugging at her mouth in spite of the tension already coiling in her limbs. "I guess I'm not the only one who likes the idea of getting caught."

"'S not that," he mutters, almost sounding sheepish. The warmth of his fingers slides down from her clit slowly, rubbing right where her panties are well and truly soaked. "You just kinda do that to me."

Tina's eyes squeeze shut at that tease of pressure, the warm weight of his cock against her fingers only serving to intensify the sweet, eager ache inside.

"God – I want you to fuck me, Sam."

He bumps their noses together gently, meeting her gaze when her eyes open again. The intensity of it knocks the wind out of her, for some reason – not that she's embarrassed about saying it, or thinks Sam's on any other page. It's the opposite, actually. He makes her feel really… wanted. Like she's finally – maybe for the first time in her life – not playing second fiddle to somebody else. 

"This is supposed to be a quickie," Sam reminds her, eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile. Before she can even think about replying, two fingers hook under the elastic leg of her panties and angle right up inside of her.

She's so wet she can actually _hear_ it when they go in, an unmistakably slippery squelching noise that sends Sam's hips rocking forward and his cock grinding against her hand again.

"Oh my God," she breathes, clenching around them automatically. Nothing can compare to actually taking his cock, but Sam's fingers are so thick and long that it's – not a bad consolation prize. Especially when he curves them a little and gives her another solid thrust, driving them home nice and deep. "Oh – my _God_."

Sam's smiling when he kisses her again, fingers wriggling just a little, just enough to make her clutch at his shoulders as her lips part under his. It's a long moment before he eases back, slipping away from her grasp and dropping to his knees in front of her. 

Her gaze darts to the door automatically, the reality of where they are abruptly hitting her upside the head. It's just so brazen, suddenly, without the protective shield of Sam looming between her and the rest of the world. It's the middle of the school day. Anyone _could_ walk in, and then what? If it's another student, word will just spread. Everyone will be talking about it by tomorrow. No one could forget her name then. Tina Cohen-Chang, senior class secretary, show choir Nationals champion, getting head in the girls' bathroom from the cutest blond hunk of a jock to ever sail down the halls of McKinley in a letterman jacket. And hey, there's something in it for him, too. Sam will get fist-bumps in the locker room till the end of time. 

If it's a teacher… Detention? Suspension? God, would they call her parents? 

Before her thoughts can spiral too far off in that direction, though, Sam yanks the thin patterned cotton of her panties to the side, and then – then his mouth is on her, soft and warm and overwhelmingly sweet. It's almost like a kiss at first, just the hot, damp press of those ridiculously plush lips, but after a moment she can feel the gentle glide of his tongue rubbing right up alongside her clit.

"Oh!" she gasps dumbly, hand flying out to grip at the sink next to her.

Rather than steadying her, the cold, solid porcelain just feels like a shock to her overwarm skin; it's so completely different from the sensation of Sam's warm, sweet little licks that it sends a shiver of adrenaline through her veins, making her muscles tense around his fingers.

Sam moans like he actually felt that, the steady flutter of his tongue suddenly getting more deliberate. She knows he's not being particularly loud, not any more than when his face was right next to hers, but every little noise seems to bounce around the spacious, empty room, blatant and obvious and blush-inducing.

"Oh, God, Sam," she whimpers, pinning her lips together as soon as the words escape. 

She thinks she can feel him smile again, but the only answer is the sudden slow glide of his fingers rocking back and forth, in and out, giving her a constant, steady sense of friction. He fucks her like that sometimes, deep and purposeful instead of horny and desperate, and it never fails to make her toes curl and that hot, sweet thrill rise in the pit of her stomach.

As far as Tina's concerned, everything about sex is pretty much amazing. She's tried it a lot of different ways and loved every single one. She loves getting fucked, hands gripping blankets while she's pinned to a bed under a lot of rippling muscles. She loves when she's doing the fucking, knees at either side of narrow hips and a cock moving inside of her every time she bounces or grinds, working a boy's low voice up into a tremulous, eager plea. She loves blowing them, whether it's sweet and gentle with hair-stroking or quick and dirty with hair-pulling.

Nothing ever really compares to this, though, and Sam is so good at it that sometimes she just stares at his mouth when they're talking and gets lost in a hot wave of arousal. He tongues her like his life depends on it. He uses those pillowy lips to open her up, to drag and rub and pull at her pussy. It's like being wrapped up in the most gentle, intent wet heat imaginable – and then he'll give her a good, hard suck just to keep things interesting.

"Yes," she hisses, eyebrows knitting and fingers curling tightly around the edge of the sink. "Yes – yes – Sam—"

The fingers inside her ease out slowly, sliding up over her clit and then parting and spreading her pussy open. Sam eases back a little, too, turning to give the inside of her thigh a hot little suck that's impossibly, embarrassingly slick, but his gaze is still fixed right – there, right where his fingers are keeping her spread for him. 

She squirms, torn between a flare of self-consciousness at the totally obvious way he's staring at her pussy, and a surge of smug pleasure at how much he apparently likes what he sees.

"Don't stop," she huffs, hips giving a greedy little grind.

Sam glances up at her with a grin that catches the light – not just on his teeth, but his wet lips and chin and, God, even a little on his cheeks.

"You're so hot," he says, genuine admiration in his voice. His smile pulls even wider. "And bossy."

"You're killing me," she groans. "I can't believe I'm already this close."

"I love how fast you come. Girls usually take forever, but you're just, like, _bam_. Right there."

"I know what I like," she says, smiling in a way that either looks cocky or totally punch-drunk – she's so dizzy with arousal, she can't even tell anymore. "And luckily – huh – you seem to have figured it out, too."

He leans in again, giving her wide, flat swipes of tongue this time, fingers still keeping her open so that slippery friction is right there on her clit. 

It almost feels _too_ good, especially when she's this worked up and sensitive to it, but the pressure is indirect enough that it doesn't hurt. It just feels like it's everywhere, swiping over all those nerve endings at once, giving attention to places she didn't even know could feel good.

He really is a fucking natural at this. If she were alone in bed, she'd just zero in on one spot and work it mercilessly. Not Sam, though. Not Sam.

"Oh God," she whispers, squeezing at his hair. It's long enough these days that there's really something to hold onto, and thankfully Sam's not the kind of guy who minds that too much – there's no fussing about getting it back into place afterwards, he just shrugs and finger-combs it vaguely.

And God, does it feel good to tug on. Not hard, really, just enough to feel that connection. Like what they're doing is still a two-person event, and she can still be giving something as well as getting.

Even if she's the one getting worked over, wet and deep. 

The feel of his tongue on her is just a little cooler than her swollen, blood warm skin – just enough that there's no mistaking each of its movements. His tongue, his spit, wandering over her skin, her wet pussy.

She feels it approaching. He feels it, too, she can tell – from the way his breaths huff against her skin a little harder, and his fingers start to nudge, nudge, nudge insistently inside.

There are voices somewhere beyond the door, down the hall, a laugh that's muffled by distance and a response that's definitely getting louder.

"Sam," she breathes warningly, but he only seems to increase his intensity, mouth pulling at her in hot, smacking little nips, lips draggy and tongue hot. 

Just glancing down at him is enough to yank her right to the end of her rope, because it just looks so fucking filthy – all that tousled blond hair catching the watery fluorescent light as his head bobs sharply, framed by the open V of her thighs. His cheek is resting on one, and it's only seeing how pink the other is that she realizes how hot it feels against her skin. How hot he is to the touch, from working her over like this right here in the girls' room.

"God, I'm gonna come," she gasps, eyes squeezing shut and mouth falling helplessly open.

It hits her fast and hard and fierce – heat welling up, winding up, tightened further by each knowing, gentle lick of her clit.

It takes everything in her to keep quiet, barely holding back the moan that's squeezing at her throat. Her chest hitches violently, pulling at the unforgiving cotton stitches of her snug, vintage dress bodice. 

" _Fuck_ ," she manages, the word coming out as a nearly shapeless huff of breath. Her thighs are still squeezing helplessly at Sam's rounded cheeks, and her calves have found their way over his shoulders, too, like she's on the verge of just lunging off this sink and riding his goddamn face.

That's when she knows she's really going over the edge – she can't even care about the thought of someone walking in. Let 'em. She wouldn't stop; she can't even care. The only thing that matters is getting more of this, all of it, chasing that feeling into absolute oblivion.

Sam, champ that he is, doesn't slow or back down at all when that white hot wave crashes over her; he just keeps pushing and pushing and _pushing_ until her head has dropped back against the cool, solid mirror and her hand finally goes slack in his hair.

She's barely even aware of it when he settles the elastic of her panties back in place and presses a sweet little kiss against the damp cotton.

"That was awesome," he says, turning to discreetly wipe his face against her thigh before he ambles upright again.

"Totally," she says vaguely. The whole room feels like it's a little blurry around the edges, and her legs don't quite want to support her weight on their own.

He bounces on the balls of his feet, looking utterly pleased with himself – which might be irritating if it were anyone else, but the smile he gives her is so goofy she can't help but laugh.

"Come here," she says, curving her hands over his shoulders and tugging him in.

She can smell her own wetness all over his face, tasting it when he leans in for a hot, tonguey kiss. It's gotten familiar to her at this point, usually accompanied by the feeling of his dick sliding in and, shortly thereafter, another orgasm that hits her on another level entirely.

For now, though, it feels pretty satisfying to just wrap her arms around his neck and lean up into it, knees pinning him in at either side of his waist.

"Hm," she murmurs, lips lingering around his bottom one in a tug. "You're still pretty hard, huh?"

"Well, that didn't really, uh, discourage it," he says, glancing down between them. She follows his gaze, skin prickling with another little rush of heat when she sees it there. He gives a lopsided shrug, looking up and over to the side as he reaches to adjust it. "It's cool. I'll just have to think about some gross stuff before I head back to class. I've got some good boner-killer material filed away."

Tina chuckles fondly. "Yeah, I remember the Coach Beiste trick. We both got busted big time for that one."

Sam's face lights up with a mix of delight and chagrin. "Oh, whoa, I forgot about that! You totally hijacked my cool-down technique."

"Yep," she says merrily. "Even then, we were both way too horny for our own good. How did it takes us this long to hook up, anyway?"

"No idea," Sam murmurs, tugging her in against his chest.

"I really needed it that year, too. Especially when you started your Justin Bieber phase."

Sam laughed. "Seriously? You were hot for the Biebs?"

"Way hot. I liked it even before you had three extra Biebers in the mix."

She hides a smile against his shoulder, eyes falling shut for a moment as she breathes in the alternately comforting and arousing smell of mall-bought cologne and cheap shampoo and sex.

"Wish I'd've known," he mumbled near her ear. 

"Well, your blue balls are worth it, Biebs," she says, giving the front of his hoodie a tug. " _Somebody's_ getting a backseat blowjob after school."

"I hope it's me," he says, tone dipping into that absent, wry place where everything sounds hilariously serious.

"Mm," she agrees, hopping off the edge of the sink and working the hem of her dress back down. "If you can make it through the next three hours without your head exploding, you deserve that reward."

"I think I can handle that," he says. "Just, uh. No more pictures, okay? I'm gonna be chubbing it for the rest of the day as it is."

"Scout's honor," Tina says solemnly. Sam ducks in to give her a funny little kiss on the forehead before he ducks out of the bathroom, glancing furtively in either direction.

She's halfway back to class when her phone vibrates again.

_Btw you look awesome today. idk if i mentioned._

She smiles and shakes her head, shoulders squaring a little as she saunters down the hall. Yeah, sometimes it's good to be Tina Cohen-Chang.


End file.
